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Last night, Lesa and I went to see Son Volt at Pearl Street. I don't really know Son Volt. I've heard a few songs on the radio and subconciously, I've absorbed one or two from the background at parties.
The Pearl Street Ballroom wasn't as crowded as I expected, but there was a decent sized audience. For the first time in a long time, we felt like we were the young ones at a show. Son Volt seems to attract men in their late 30s and early 40s who enjoy facial hair and flannel shirts.
The show was good, Pearl Street amazingly sounded ok. Unfortunately, as the night wore on the music kept getting louder and louder until I was forced out into the brightly lit and colder entrance way to the room. I had forgotten my ear-plugs but we figured it wouldn't get too loud and, like I said, it started out at a good volume. Oh well.
By the time the volume of the of the guitars got too piercing, my interest was starting to wain anyway. Not that the band wasn't good. They were. It's just that they seem to have a lot of songs in the jangly key of G at exactly the same mid-tempo beat. Not be familiar with the songs, I started to tune out.
I'm always amazed that some bands/songwriters can be satisfied with doing such similar things over and over again. In some cases, it's a great, great thing. Take Neil Young, or Mazzy Star, or Julie Cruise. But in some cases, and I'm not saying this about Son Volt - since I really am not so familiar with them, I can't figure it out.
What I've heard about Son Volt is that they were one of the inventors of what the people call Alt-Country. To me it sounded just like a combination of Big Star and John Cougar Meloncamp. It was nice. But we left before they finished, partly I think because it just stayed at the same level of nice (besides the volume change) throughout. Also the lead singer and the lead guitarist both seemed like they were supremely bored. The other guys were more into it, especially the keyboardist who was wearing a scarf like Snoopy in his World War Two Fighter Plane.
4 comments:
Son Volt, you mean. Their first record "Trace" is absolutely stunning. As is Uncle Tupelo's final record "Anodyne". Everything else by Tupelo or Son Volt or Wilco is milquetoast drivel in my opinion. Like you said, for 30 somethings that think they've got something on the Dave Matthews Band.
Thanks, Mark, for the spelling correction. I have since gone back and fixed it.
My vote's for Uncle Tupelo's "No Depression."
And I too, even being just slightly more familiar with the band, felt like I entered some sort of convention that I wasn't really invited to when I entered the room, especially with the boy-ness of it all. It was a little odd.
I don't think boredom is the word, but maybe it was because Jay's straight face only varied once. A huge smile only coming after the guitar-hander-over guy (who reminded me of a cross between Alice Cooper and a young Iggy Pop) screwed up and forced Jay Farrar to play his acoustic guitar twice in a row. Maybe he does need a change in the routine to stimulate some expression, but I think that's just the way he is.
All that to simply say that I'm glad I wasn't the only one sensitive to the strange crowd -- which in the back of my mind I was wishing could be attributed to a sort of full-moony-push. But, I think Mark just might be right about the crowd. And I definitely prefer Farrar's Son Volt to Tweedy's Wilco.
And what about the drummer from the opening band? Great hairdo, great voice, and he could play.
That's it.
Yes, yes! I fogot to mention the opening band, which was the Fruit Bats. I thought they really were good and YES the drummer was a stand-out. He seemed like a guy I'd like to hang out with and I liked the way he played.
Their last song was a pop-gem.
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